Feeling in Color I awake with a stiff neck after a day of almosts and a night of swirling sleep. I can't see the plan unfold I can only have faith. Faith is feeling out of control and not caring. What would it look like to share my mind as it happens. Moment to moment each picture is something to give her, something she won't understand but she will love. I hate not knowing how to fix life. Fixing is so much eaiser when you know how. I really cuts down on the Bull Shit. But I am not called to know but to follow without knowledge. Bull Shit is not my calling.

Solitude filled with technology. Druged by the hope of new distraction. Don't think to long on one page or you will be left to die alone. Fake excitement popping in my brain like spyware. Where did this shit come from? On my knees in my apartment crying like I have never cried before. Did I really say those things? Manufacured need; faulty desire.

If today could last forever.
I would hold her like there is no tommorow.

I can cut the silence with a knife. I hear the sound of disconnect coming from my fingers. Pens are irreleveant in a paperless society. Take to the formula and dangle a carrot in front of it. It will stay put. I don't eat vegtables. I want to have my cake and eat it too and diet and call people who diet dumb and on and on until I don't know if cake is cake anymore. Bull shit is an art form. I work in the medium of Bull's Shit. I sculpt. With my hands. Is dreaming different than your doing lying to God? He put those dreams in me. Or are they temptations. Opprotunitty knocks and I make fun of someone else for hearing it because I know there is no such thing. Mystify me. I think I am better than everyone sometimes.

He Gives and Takes Away

My hand is gripping the things I call mine. The things I build myself from, and out of, and for. My hand begs the question "Can I possess?"

I need ownership to feel alive, but is feeling alive and being a living soul the same thing?

In my pile of comfort, covered in expensive feathers, plucked from expendable geese, I try to hide from possibility and from providence. From the taker.

Life is not mine. They are not mine. She is not mine. Is anything mine?

Selfish like a magnet
Heart like hardwood floors
Careless like weeds
Temper like a dormant volcano

Lazy as lillypads
Proud as a Pharisee
Patient as a fuse
Stubborn as cancer

Turtle: Where's your tie? Don't you know this is a formal?

Worm: Uh yeah . . . I'm wearing a bolo tie but you just can't see it because it's so small around my worm neck

Turtle: Worms don't have necks

Worm: Yo mamma ain't got no neck.

Turtle: Say What

Worm: You heard

Turtle: You betta recognize

Worm: Turtle don't want none.

Turtle: Bring it bolo

All of the sudden the watchman walks in. He's blind. The turtle starts laughing and the worm starts laughing and the turtle keeps laughing and the worm keeps laughing

Watchman: What

Turtle: You ain't got no socks on watch

Watchman: So, cut me a break I'm a blind watchman How's I supposed to remember my socks

Worm: You could write it down.

Watchman: I can't see how am I supposed to read.

Turtle: You could get an interpreter

Watchman: Is that a bolo tie

Worm: Yeah thanks

Turtle: I thought you was blind.

Watchman: Correction. I am blind.

Turtle: Like you still is blind

Worm: Of course he's still blind Turtle. Watchman can't just get unblind all the sudden. What you think this is, the future.

Watchman: How can it be the future currently.

Turtle: Same way you see worm's bolo tie.

Watchman: Magic?

Worm: You know magic?

Turtle: Who Magic is.

Worm: you know magic.

Turtle: I do?

Watchman: I do.

Worm: Who asked you four eyes.

Turtle: Yeah what kind a blindman wears glasses. That's messed up.

Watchman: They help me pretend to think.

Worm: I got a magic trick for you.

Turtle: Knock Knock

Worm: Who's There

Turtle: A Rabbit

Watchman: A Rabbit Who?

Turtle: A Rabbit out a hat. Ta da.

Worm: That's the dumbest magic trick I ever heard.

Turtle: Yo mamma's a dumb magic trick

Watchman: He's got you there worm.

Worm: Scoreboard.

Turtle: But . . .

Worm: Scoreboard.

Turtle: . . . no one is keeping score

Worm: Tell it to the Scoreboard.

Suddenly the blindman takes off his glasses and starts laughing. He keeps laughing until Turtle and Worm can't help but forget what they are fighting for.

Watchman: I ain't got no socks on

Turtle and Worm: You crazy.

THE END

Eyes glazed over with work. Take a moment to listen to the revolution inside my ears. What if I'm old?

Fall without assignments. The days get shorter but the don't stop coming. Routine is a trash can full of excuses. When the time comes I'll get around to it. Time isn't coming though, just days. One right after another like words on a page no one will read. There is order and form but no meaning. Opportunity comes in a cereal box. If only I could afford it.

I miss my blog. I want to do it more and today the idea of putting pictures on it made me dink around with it again. I hope I can get it to work. Than I will have some good picture fun. Just you wait.

As Lost as a Blind Man on Vacation by himself

Middle of the country written all over my face
With a magic marker
And well bred too
Like an expensive dog without
The brain damage

Over-Educated odor drips from my pre-owned shirt
Off the placemat
Onto the air
Errors I put on to impress you
I Spit in the face of the convention
His name is wind
Touch it for the purpose of knowing it
Just as I suppose most men do

I will tie myself to a classic beauty for forever
Shortly
Only without the growing up part
To have and hold hands with
As long as we both shall live the dream

Humor masks my intensity
Like make-up on a bad actor playing a cheap whore
Victim of the middle child syndrome
Having my sights set on failing least
I maintain the breath for the stretch run

I wasn’t cut out for this
In fact I think it was more of a falling out than a cutting
An absolutely flawless falling
A bowling ball and a feather in a vacuum
Somewhere in the space between my ears.